Chapter 23
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Clara Cawley was in her kitchen, baking. It’s what she did whenever she was upset or distraught. These days, there were more pies and shortcakes at the Cawley house than the bakery downtown. And despite its therapeutic nature, it didn’t seem to mend the enormous hole in her heart losing Genevieve had created. If only her daughter would consent to talking to her, maybe she could somehow right all of the wrongs of the past three years.
The kitchen was attached but at the back of the house, and just as she pulled a perfectly browned apple pie from the heat, she began to hear an insistent pounding on her front door. After the second set of blows, she yelled, “Julia! Get the door please!” There was no answer, and the furious knocking continued. Despite being slightly apprehen
